Ayamonte to Rota
4th/5th October 51 miles
After a trip to the market for some last-minute fresh food, we slip out of the berth at 11.45.  As we leave the breakwater abeam to starboard, we can see thunder storms building over the land. The wind is light and we make slow progress under sail. By 17.00 the wind has died and the engine goes on.  We find the tillerpilot isn't working, so we're hand steering while the engine's on. By 19.00 a chicken is roasting in the oven, while we enjoy gin and olives in the cockpit in the sunshine.   After supper we try and sail again, but it is painfully slow. By midnight we drop the mainsail as it's flogging noisily and the engine goes on again.  That continues all night.  We do two hours on/two hours off watches throughout the night.  It is a heavenly clear night, flat calm, with Chipiona light in the distance.  Our watch takes on that dream-like quality when afterwards you can't remember anything that actually happens, you just remember how you felt at the time.  Sometime before first light we altered course for Rota, as there is still no sign of any wind.  We motor gently through a flotilla of small fishing boats as we near the coast. By the time we come back on watch at 7am, we can see land, and at 08.30 we tie up alongside the reception berth at Rota.  

When the marina office opens we sort out a misunderstanding with the marina over charging us for an extra night in June.  When we show we were in Puerto Sherry at the time, they realise their mistake.  The low season berth price with our discount is 6.74 euros! Going ashore, we find Rota in the grip of preparations for a fiesta to celebrate the Virgin Mary.  All the shops are shut.  Marion and Brian spend the afternoon sightseeing in Cadiz, while I clean out the boat and Leighton fixes the tillerpilot.

Rota to Barbate 6th October 26 miles The wind is still light when we leave Rota in the morning and set out across the bay. We manage to sail for a while, but by the time we have the westerly cardinal abeam to port, we're motorsailing to keep our speed up. We skirt the edge of Bajos de Leon, passing the long beachfront of Cadiz in the sun. By mid afternoon with Cabo Roche abeam we turn off the engine and sail for a while.  It doesn't last, and we motor along the largely undeveloped coastline and empty beaches.  Since the weather's fine, we opt to take the inshore way round Cape Trafalgar, with its white lighthouse at the end of a long spit.  It's calm and sunny when we round the cape at 16.47. Barbate's long tunny nets have been hauled in for the winter, so it's a clear run into the harbour, although the channel is narrow. Entering Barbate marina is a bit like going into a concrete bunker, particularly when its low tide.  The marina is a long way from the town. Makarma is dwarfed in a berth designed for a 70' boat at a cost of 10 euros. Very spacious showers. We watched some fishermen unload several good-sized tuna and yellow dorada, the same kind of fish we'd seen barbequed on a French boat moored beside us in Rota.   They were unwilling to sell us any so we settled for a storecupboard supper.  Later in the evening, they appeared at the boat with a carrier bag full of fillets of the yellow dorada, which we buy for tomorrow's lunch.

Barbate to Gibraltar
7th October 
With the help of Colin's pilot, we think we've made sense of the tides through the Strait to decide when to time our departure from Barbate. We ring ahead to find Glenn in Marina Bay has reserved a berth for us thanks to Colin's help. The Blue Water Rally is currently stopping off in Gib, so space is at a premium. The wind is forecast to be westerly 3 to 4.  Perfect.  We're really not sure what to expect, having heard dire tales of gale force winds at Tarifa and horrendous wind over tide sea state. We slip at first light at 08.30 and it's calm and a little misty when we emerge from the harbour. 

We motorsail for an hour, then pick up a small land breeze blowing off a valley packed with wind turbines, so we sail for a while until it dies. Then on past Punta de Gracia light to port until we see Tarifa emerging in the distance.  Loads of ships ahead, and we can see Mt Musa in the clouds on the other side - Africa!  At last, we pick up a westerly 3 off Tarifa and turn downwind to goosewing into the Strait.  Never did I imagine as we rounded Tarifa that conditions would be benign enough for me to be down below pan-frying dorada for lunch! As we go, the wind never goes above 15 knots, and then suddenly The Rock is in view, then Europa Point. Lots of wind turbines on the hills above the strait. As we get closer to the bay, we can see it's crowded with ships and high speed ferries, very much as I remember Singapore harbour. We gybe round Punta Carnero into the bay and weave our way among them, finally stowing the sail and motoring the last two miles.  We berth bows-to in an impossibly tight space between two boats to be greeted by Colin - he'd watched us coming in across the bay, saying he'd recognise Makarma anywhere!

Our crew - approaching the Rock

Colin Thomas

Marion in Marina Bay

In Gibraltar
A welcome day ashore after the non-stop sailing of the last few days.  And no early start either!  We stocked up at Morrisons after we arrived and later had an indifferent supper out.  A peculiar place, Gibraltar. It sits in a British Empire time-warp when most of the map was pink and civilisation had to be protected from the indigenous peoples. The people ferociously cling to their Britishness, which brings to mind at worst the BNP and at best UKIP.  Bangers and beans on sale everywhere and we didn't find a decent cup of coffee. We had to go and see the monkeys, so overcoming my vertigo, we take the cable car to the top of the Rock. It's pretty unattractive up there, apart from the view, which is breathtaking.  From up there, we case out an anchorage on the Spanish side for next time we come here, to save us berthing alongside the airport runway, where we are at the moment.

Later, Colin comes onboard to show us his photos of Makarma's initial fit-out at Laira Bridge, and the early days onboard with his family in the Caribbean.  It looked wonderful.  He jumped up and down on the deck, admitting that Makarma was the only boat he had ever felt totally safe in. His wife had asked him to kiss the old boat, which he duly did!   Joined by the Edwards's friends, we all troop across La Linea to Spain for a decent fish supper. It is very peculiar to find ourselves marching across the runway to reach the border. The long queues to get across speak volumes of the fractious relationship between the Brits and the Spanish over the Gibraltar issue. 

Gibraltar to Marina Smir, Morocco
9th October
Leighton changes the oil filter at 4802 engine hours and we take on board 210 litres of diesel served by an unbelievably surly BP fuel attendant. It's blowing an easterly, and we can see clearly the effects of the Levanter blowing wisps of cloud across the top of the rock and gusting down the leeward side.  An aeroplane makes a bumpy landing as we leave at 12.30pm. In the bay, the wind is gusting from all directions, so we put one reef in the main to make it easier to steer our way around the considerable volume of shipping.  Off Europa Point we unroll the job and romp south at 6.5 knots. The sea's lumpy so the cold chicken for lunch is wedged into chunks of bread to be eaten any old how.  I suppose we couldn't expect a sit-down lunch while crossing one of the busiest shipping channels in the world. At least our speed will get us across in a couple of hours. The ships look like apartment blocks stacked up with containers, and they appear so quickly over the horizon we have to keep a sharp lookout. As we approach Punta Almina on the other side, we get into some very uncomfortable wind over tide sea, which slows us down considerably.  It lasts half an hour or so until we get round the point. As the sea state eases, we alter course for Marina Smir, passing tunny nets strung out from the shore, marked by rafts.  Apartment blocks line the shore with mountains behind.  At 17.45 we drop the sails and enter behind the breakwater to go alongside an almost deserted marina - we're in North Africa!  Unfortunately our visit has coincided with Ramadan, so the place is quiet, and it has a fin de saison feel about it.  At nightfall the cafes and restaurants around the marina development come to life, so we have a delicious meal of tagine and couscous ashore.

Morocco inland - a trip ashore
10th October
Colin had told us the local policeman who does the entry formalities has a brother who will act as a guide if we want to go inland.  Marion and Brian are keen to visit Chefchaouen in the Tif Mountains.  We hire a taxi for the day and our guide Ahmed shows us round the old walled town of Tetuan, where he leads us into a carpet bazaar (it takes several firm refusals to escape!) and a herbalist's shop before leaving us in Mohamed's hands to drive us 50 miles or so up into the mountains. Our driver stays very good-humoured throughout, considering the heat and the distance and the fact that he can't eat or drink until nightfall.  This part of the Mediterranean coast of Morocco is becoming more developed as the young King has a summer residence on the coast here, bringing much-needed investment. The Tif Mountains are smaller than the Atlas, but they attract many backpackers and gap year students because they grow marijuana widely here. On the road we pass herds of goats driven by small boys; passers-by in long hooded djellabahs, and Berber women in distinctive hats with wool pom-poms.

Chefchaouen is a hilltop town made up of narrow alleyways lined with stalls selling everything you can think of.  Like in the Greek islands, the alleys are painted white. Blue walls tell you if it's a dead-end.  We have lunch on the terrace of the Aladin Lanterne Magique with a fantastic view of the casbah and minarets over the town.  Here's a flavour of the place: